If It's
by NeonBursts
Summary: My life is all about that fire. That warmth I feel inside. It's all about the Hip Hop vibe that moves my soul. I want it back. Need it back. I'm nothing without it.  Russel Hobbs Memoir


**Author's Notes:**_ Well, this is going to be somewhat of a confusion to some people. It's much longer than all of the other ones I've written so far. AND FOR GOOD REASON! No one pays attention to my black brutha. So I'm going to do it for them. It's kind of like the other's but there's more of a story line to it, more of a narrative with his emotions thrown in. It's Russel Hobbs people, it'll be depressing and happy at the same time. He's a well rounded person!_

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Gorillaz. Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett do. The song lyrics mentioned that go "Till I met this pretty lil miss who got shot right out the sky." is actually "Till I met this pretty lil miss, who shot me out the sky." The song is Knocks You Down by Keri Hilson ft. Ne-Yo and Kanye West. I don't own that song either._

* * *

**If It's...**

"If that hip hop vibe is enough to keep your soul moving, then that hip hop vibe has done its job."

My once great friend Del told me that once. He was an amazing guy, made me feel like music really was the only way into one's soul. If you could hit a beat that made people feel, you had hit a beat that looked into them, you'd found the beat that matched the beat of their heart. That's why people felt so connected to hip hop, there were so many different rhythms and beats to match so many different people. Del was my man, my best friend; the guy I looked to when it came to understanding the world of the beats.

That part of the story is way in the middle man, to understand how that came to be, you need to understand what was before that. I was surprisingly someone very different before I met Del and his free styling hip-hop crew who did their thing on the streets. I'd often drive by them in my mom's car when I hadn't known who they were. Every time I would crane my neck to try and keep them in my sight until I couldn't possibly see them anymore. At those times I was still young and my future best friend was my age, but he got to hang out with _them_, the beat making, hip hop singing Gods.

I remember the day I'd asked my mom why I couldn't hang out with them, be part of them; _be one of them_. She'd scoffed and looked out the window towards the group of men standing on the corner bursting out lyrics like the Sun burst out heat. Instinctive, involuntary; a total reaction to action. "Those men aren't properly educated. My son won't be one of those people," she'd said and patted my arm affectionately. I'd sighed and accepted her answer but let my eyes linger on the men with hope. I would be one of them.

A few years later, I was enrolled into a private high school. I was smart, I felt good about myself and I hadn't thought about those hip hopping Gods for a long time. School was great; I was doing a good job and getting good grades. I was making my mother happy, which had made me feel good about myself. I wanted to be the man my mom saw me being; someone who would change the world with what he believed he could change it with. I, at that time, had believed I would change the world by using what I'd learned.

Well man, as they say, what goes up must come down. And me? I was definitely up.

I can't remember exactly when, but sometime in middle school I'd been possessed by some spirit. He was the rudest son of a bitch I'd ever met, alive or dead. (Except Murdoc of course, but at that time, he was.) He made me do things I can't even retell because half of them I don't even remember. At those times, I think I was locked in a small cage so that when I came back, I didn't even remember doing them. Eventually of course, I was kicked out of school and made my mom very sad.

After that though, I went into a state of anxiety shock that rocked the ages. It was bad enough man that I went into a coma. Yea, for four fucking years.

When I woke up, the first thing that happens to me is, well, some guy named Father Merrin exorcises the mother fucker out me.

Now exorcisms are painful things, for both the thing inside of you and for you. I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything; I couldn't go to the bathroom; I couldn't move from my bed. I was basically supposed to act like a rock on the ground until I was moved by some outer force. My body felt like it was being shredded form the inside out by the thing inside me and I was in the most pain of my life. Not only that, but it literally drove me into insanity by the time it was over.

Depressed because I was kicked out of my school and nearly nuts because of the exorcism I started to wander the streets of New York as if it'd help me clear my mind. Each and every day I'd walk into record shops and look at all the albums made by black men all around the country. Of everything we were doing, we were dominating the music world. It made me heart clench a little when I picked up one album and saw a man on it who I'd heard had been shot. It'd been all over the news, how he'd made enemies in the industry and they got him.

I thought and still think that, that might be the reason my mother didn't want me hanging with the hip hoppers on the streets. She was probably terrified that I'd end up shot like the other big R&B artists in America. I'd long since put the album down and left by that point and was making my way down the empty streets. It was early in the morning, around 10am and so I knew that everyone was taw or school and I was alone.

My feet had dragged me many places before, places I'd never been and I was discovering more about New York City and the Bronx than ever before. I was finding new places to buy music, new places to eat delicious Chinese noodles and more places where I could sit down and read to keep my education on pace with what it would be if I'd been in school. I'd walked past the Statue of Liberty a few times and each time I'd look up at her and her flaming torch and blame her for how depressed and fucking psycho I felt. She was supposed to keep the peace in New York; I didn't feel very at peace.

One day, by chance of the heavens or whoever was looking out for me, I found _them_ again. I was at the opposite end of the street corner from them but there they were, all crowded around one guy who was belting out lyrics truer than the shit in the record stores. The human beat boxing hit me like a wave of warmth promising family and comfort if I went towards it. And I'd wanted to, I truly did, but it took me such a long time to shift through thoughts of what my mother would think if she found out.

But, eventually, what your insane mind wants and what your mother wants become out of balance. There's no more fighting, not more judging what would be better. One wins out over the other doesn't it? For me, the insanity and depression swirling in my brain had decided that I would do whatever it took to make me feel better. It wanted more of that warmth and comfort that was flowing in the music and the words and the true..._rawness_ of it all. It wanted to feel the rhythms of lives since passed and lives that would keep going.

It wanted them. And so, I wanted them.

I dared my feet to move and soon enough I'd gotten moving towards them. I walked with an almost insane look in my eyes as I drowned in the music that got louder and louder as I moved towards the group. The music swirled around me and surrounded me in a dome of beats and rhythms and words and rap. I felt protected in that dome; I felt like everything would be alright if I just stayed there and drank in the music that didn't need fancy recording studios or big budget managers. It just needed people who loved music and wanted to share their views with the rest of the world. I, no matter how much I'd denied it before, wanted to be one of those people.

I wanted to be out on the streets pouring out my soul, not through words, but through music. I wanted to be the one who created the backbone to the song, who held up the structure with a strong base. I wanted my base to be the thing that broke open a hole in someone's mind and opened them up to the flow of music that had yet to come. I wanted to create vibes that would move a person so much that they'd practically beg for more just to stave off the hunger for the music. I wanted to be the best drummer the world had ever seen. But everyone has to start somewhere.

Before I'd even reached the group, Del (alive and young at the time) had turned and spotted me moving to them. He smiled widely and pulled to me the group and shoved us through into the centre of the musical Gods I'd long since admired and wanted to be part of. I had no idea what to say, shoved in the middle of a gang of men who had moved my soul so deeply and had made me realise what I'd been fighting for so long just to please my mother.

One of them stepped forward and his eyes bore into me as if he was searching for the reason why I was there himself instead of just asking me why I'd decided to mess up his groove. "Why you here little bro?" he asked. I remember his voice quite clearly; it was deep and resonated with music in itself. It had chilled me to hear him talk at that time and anytime after.

I felt lost inside the circle of men, my warm bubble of music was gone and it left me cold. I didn't know what to say. Why could an aspiring drummer who was recently possessed and thrown out of school possibly say? 'Hi, I'm Russel Hobbs and I'd like to join you guys because I think I deserve to." No, I couldn't say that. So, I said the next best thing.

"I've seen you guys here a lot when I drove by in my mom's car. You were amazing, and your music filled me with warmth and moved me every time I heard it. I, I want to be part of that. I want to be part of a nation of hip hop sensations that rock the beats and bring the vibes. I'm Russel Hobbs, and I want to be a drummer."

Just like that I was brought into the group. They didn't ask me anything further, not who I was, not where I lived. They hadn't even asked me for a way for them to keep in contact with me. I was just…in. For the first time in a long time I felt as if I was part of something you know? Like that feeling you get inside when you know that a team you're on can't play without you and you're that important and that part of it that it feels like a family? That's what I got with them, that's what they brought to my life and I was happy.

My mom didn't know about it, she didn't ask because I was keeping up pretence at home. There I would read and work and study trying to prove to her I was trying to keep up with where I would be in school. But, the instant I left the house that part of me dropped and I would run, _run_ to them just so I could feel the music, be part of the music. And I was part of it, I was very much part of it.

After a few weeks that I'd been with them, Del and I officially stated that we were best friends. Best hip hopping bros for the rest of our lives man. And that, that is one solid deal, you don't break shit like that. We were tight, tighter to each other than we were to the men we were supposed to be a group with. More often than not, we would meet up by ourselves and go hunting for drums that we both knew I wanted. Del had the skills, I needed to learn.

How else would I become the best drummer the world had ever seen?

Two months after I'd joined the gang my mom enrolled me in a high school where all my new friends happened to go. For the first time ever, I felt complete. I had school back, I had my friends, I had hip hop and I had _myself_. But, the one thing that truly saved me was my music. _My music._

I'd gotten my first drum set from the group as a commemorative gift to how long I'd been with them, and I spared all of my time for it. Homework came after it even my friends came after it. Del, he was the only one I bothered my time with because not only was he my brother from another mother but he was the one guy I trusted enough to teach me how to play.

For the next year I kept learning, kept practicing. I graduated from high school with good grades and moved on to get a job working at a place I loved. It was 1993, I was eighteen and I had the best job a guy like me could've asked for, I was working in a record shop and it made my heart soar to be there. I was learning more about music than I could've anywhere else and my life just went up in flames. Nice warm flames that caressed me and warmed me and promised me nice things because my life was all nice things.

Two years later at twenty-one, I believe that was when my flame was extinguished and left nothing but slowly dwindling embers. We were doing our thing like any other day. I, Del and the others were just doing our shit on the streets. It was at those times that, that hot burning fire engulfed me the most and made me feel the warmest. Hot even. Yea man, it made me feel hot.

I had my smaller drum set out; blasting beats that I knew the others could easily mingle words with. It was all such a great moment, a beautiful raw moment that took my breath away. It was all so perfect, all so up in the air and just…spontaneous. There is no better word for it, it was spontaneous. It just happened and it was so unplanned and just took it's time and it made me gasp and warmed up the flames and just left me feeling _good_.

Del was next to me, tapping on a snare I couldn't because both of my hands were already at work. I'd smiled up at him with a smile that meant the music was pumping through me and he returned it. We were just two best friends pelting out beats as if we were born to do it. And I felt like I was born to do this, born to play the drums and be the backbone of hip hop. Del, he was born to do it too. That was what we shared; we shared the amazing love to be the base of something bigger than ourselves.

Then that black car drove up out of nowhere and I did feel funny about it. It left the edges of my fire feeling cold and sucked of warmth. But I ignored it, despite my better judgment I'd ignored it. And my life had suffered for it.

First the windows rolled down but we couldn't see anyone in the car. Del and I had stopped playing and had stared at the car with interest. Then, the bullets started flying and I was suddenly shoved to the ground behind my drum set. "You've gotta keep living Russ, you still have to become the best drummer the world has ever seen." I'd shut my eyes but I knew that it was Del who was speaking, Del who was telling me my life was important.

It seemed like it was raining bullets for hours but I knew, I knew it had only been mere seconds of fire. Speaking of fire, mine; mine was so cold and empty that I thought back to how it felt when I'd first gotten the demon expelled from me. It had left me feeling empty, as if a part of me had been removed but I didn't know which piece so I couldn't fix it. I opened my eyes slowly and the first thing I saw was a hole that had been torn through my bass drum. I situated my eye to it and looked through it, seeing the bodies of Mike (the guy who's asked me why I wanted to be part of the crew) and his second in command Darrel.

I pushed myself to my feet, shaking and terrified that I'd lost everything to a couple of fuckers and their bullets. At first the only thing I could look at calmly was my ruined drum set, pelted with bullets and completely demolished beyond use. It made my soul cry out that one of my two beloved instruments was dead and gone, having pounded out its last notes today. I'd swallowed my fear and looked around for my other friends.

To my left, three other bodies lay, riddled with bullets like Swiss cheese and bleeding profusely onto the sidewalk. Five of six men accounted for. My heart pounded viciously in my chest and I'd known what I'd see next. My eyes saw it before my mind bothered to even register it into a clear image. I didn't want to see it; I'd already known what was there. But I had to, I had to see what had happened to the best friend I'd vowed I'd be beside my whole life.

Del, my one true friend, the one who had told me the quote above just days before, was dead. I'd dropped my knees and pulled his into my lap, trying to hold back tears. My fire was gone and I was freezing without it. I was just completely demolished inside and I didn't see a point to living on without the only people who'd truly understood me and my need for music in my life.

For the first time in a long time, I'd cried. I'd cried for the loss of my crew, for the loss of my drums, for the loss of the music. But mostly, Id cried for Del, who was gone and ripped out of my life leaving nothing behind but his memory. I didn't stop crying, I didn't try to stop crying. I needed to let it out and I knew that and I wanted to stop it but I couldn't because with everything gone crying was all I'd had left and I wanted to keep what I had for as long as I could because if I lost it that was it.

Suddenly, there was warmth. Undeniable warmth that went cold as quickly as it became warm. I froze and let myself feel the frost bite cold that had just filled my body. Between feeling nothing but sadness and loss and feeling that bitter cold, I chose the cold. It was something that filled me instead of leaking from me. I wanted to be filled with something that wasn't sadness and needed something to grasp onto in order to know how to keep going.

I'd gasped out as the cold grew even colder and I felt my body fall to the ground. Then there was nothingness and just plain numbness. I felt something pass through my mind, a whisper of something not quite mine. It passed through again and I shuddered at the feeling of something invading my mind because my mind was a sanctuary to me and no one could just _enter_ it.

Then it paused, filled my mind with fog and a voice started up. It was quiet at first, barely audible but still there. And it grew louder and louder and I could tell it was repeating the same thing over and over again. Suddenly….

"Russel, I'm here man. I told you I'd never leave."

_Del_. His voice felt like it was right next to my ear but I knew it couldn't be true because Del was dead next to me. The fog cleared and I regained control of my motor skills and sat up to observe my surroundings. There were people everywhere I looked, staring at the scene I was in with horror in their eyes. I didn't know what I'd looked like but I was sure I looked like something possessed and evil covered in my comrades' blood and filled with Del's spirit.

"Russel, we're all here, but I'll be your main man ya dig? I'll be your guide."

I'd stood up and watched the crowd from behind my sunglasses and sighed. It was going to be a long day after that.

I meant that too, to me, it didn't feel like one year went by. I didn't feel myself turn twenty-two. It felt like one extremely long day with its moments of dark clouding the sun. It was during that long day that I was sent to London by popular vote because I wasn't living the life they expected of me. My mother had said it was so I could live a life in peace without being bombarded by questions of why my eyes glowed such an eerie white.

Boy, now that was a shock man. I get home, in fresh clothing just coming from the police station after being interrogated for hours. I felt disgusting despite being in clean clothes and having no traces of blood on me. I felt really fucking gross just from the sight and I'd already thrown up the contents of my stomach.

I still felt cold, cold without the warmth of the fire but I still had Del and that had made me feel a bit warmer on the cold scale. About a 9 out of 10. 1 being hypothermia cold and 10 being just under warm cold. Anyways, back to the reveal of my eyes.

So, I'd gotten into my bathroom and leaned over my sink to stare at my face. Only, it didn't feel like my face anymore. Why? Well, because I knew that under the surface I wasn't me anymore, I was Del and my crew and I came last. I still, I still looked like me and I still sounded like me. But without my blazing hot fire fueled by music and my crew. But, I'd felt that my sunglasses marred my ability to see myself clearly, maybe it was their fault that I'd felt so confused. So, I took them off.

At first it was pure denial yo. Those couldn't be my eyes, I wouldn't allow them to be my eyes. My eyes were a dark chestnut brown that looked like brown in the right light. Those (these) glowing white orbs couldn't be mine. I'd reached up with a shaking hand, both from the shock and from the cold and ran my finger under my eye because I just couldn't believe that they were the ones I'd have to live with for as long as Del would be inside my head. I'd shuddered and punched the mirror so I wouldn't have to face my own truth and dived into the shower for two hours.

So, where does that leave us? Ah right, the London trip thing.

Well I'm sent off to London with a fair amount of money and a wish from my mother. "Stay safe, stay smart and live like you're about to die." I still live by those words but I can't say that the safe thing is going to well. Anyways, so I'm in Essex, London working in a record store again because it brought back some of my fire. And besides, Del wanted it to. We both wanted to be surrounded by music just like we had been in Brooklyn.

It was 1999 and I was actually surprisingly looking forward to my twenty-third birthday because it would mark another year I'd survived. Main reasons for that were small sparks that tried to ignite my glowing embers into my surrounding flame. Things like my drums, which I could play several times better due to Del helping me, working with music and learning more and more everyday and the new friends I'd made. They weren't like my old ones and they didn't make me feel complete but they were at least there, right?

Now, it shouldn't have been a shock to me when someone came up and asked me to be part of a band. I shouldn't have been, but I was. I mean, everyone knew about the hip hop machine, and by word of mouth I would've been surprised if all of London didn't know about it. So, let me explain to you what happened and how so suddenly, my toppled world set right back into place.

Typical day working in the record store, helping people find music that would heal them, thrill them and just set their souls ablaze. I felt distanced from those people all the time, having lost that fire that burned inside me.

Anyways, at the time I'd thought it was just some creepy guy who had come in looking for an old record we probably didn't have. He sent me into the back and I had no idea of the record he spoke of. It hurt the slight bit of heat brewing inside me because I knew; I knew almost every vinyl that had existed at that time and before. Nevertheless, as to not disappoint a customer and further dull the small fire in me I searched.

Eventually I found it and with a satisfied sigh I'd left the back room to go give it to the bad smelling, slightly green man who honestly didn't scare me a bit. Only, when I left the room my head was covered with a black sack by who knows who and I felt what I assumed to be a gun press into my back. Whoever was kidnapping me didn't even bother give instructions, he just shoved and I did as told. I didn't want to die, I'd already lost everything and I enjoyed the warmth of life.

Once I'd entered whatever vehicle I was shoved into I was hit over the head and blacked out instantly. Kidnapping is fun isn't it? I think it is yo. Notice the sarcasm please.

I'd woken up on a cold floor in a musty smelling room in what I knew was a very old building.

"Oh good, tubby's awake." I'd looked for the source of the voice and stared at the man from the record store dumbly. My head was pounding. "I'm Murdoc Niccals and you Russel Hobbs are my new drummer," he'd stated so simply. There was no question about it, no room to negotiate. It was, _you are_ not _will you_.

I remained in that house for several days until I'd started having my stuff shipped out to me. My clothes, my drums, my albums… the hip hop machine. For the first time in two years, I felt that blazing heat. I felt myself become engulfed by the addictive fire that exploded from inside me outwards that I was surprised no one else felt it. It was so powerful, so bright and hot that people should have seen and felt it like the fucking Sun man. The fucking Sun.

Murdoc on the other hand, I could tell her was a bit unsettled by my willingness to stay. I bet he'd been expecting me to argue and fight and demand he return me home. Honestly though, my home didn't even feel like a home. It just felt like four walls, a ceiling and a floor filled with furniture. Kong though, Kong felt like a place similar to home. It pulsed with music and I was eager to be part of it.

I would finally be the base of the building. I would be the guy who would hold everything together. I finally had a fucking purpose yo. Even Del, somewhere in my head was brimming with glee at the chance to finally join me in playing the drums for something and someone other than ourselves.

It was maybe a week after that I first met 2D. He, now he scared me a bit. Taller than my 6'1", thin enough to be anorexic, somewhat disproportional and completely blank; but I think it was the blue hair and the black eyes that terrified me the most. He was even odder than I was.

I'd been practicing my drums in the recording studio when I first met him. At first I hadn't noticed he'd entered the room until he spoke up. "Wh-Who're yew?" My drumsticks had dropped from my hands at the sound of the high voice and it chilled down my spine. I looked up and came face to face with who I hadn't known existed. I'd learned later that Murdoc had trapped him in his room as a practical joke.

Anyway man. "I'm Russel Hobbs, drummer. Who the hell are you lil man?" He'd tilted his head to the side as if he didn't understand the words coming from my mouth.

"I ain't little." Suddenly he burst into a smile and I noticed that his two front teeth were gone. "Me? Me names 2D! I'm tha keyboardist yea? Murdoc says I'm also tha singa. It'll be fun 'aving a drummer 'ere," he rambled.

That caught me by surprise, I had no idea how someone with his two front teeth missing could sing; but that was how I met the singer. He just added to the fire because I knew that it was really a band, it wasn't a hoax. Together, the three of us worked on melodies for the first album of our nameless band and I felt fulfilled because I knew more about music than either of them. 2D's knowledge shocked me; he knew what he was talking about. Murdoc, he just wanted it all to go his way.

Then came the faithful day that we'd decided to add lyrics to our songs. Well song, the very first one we worked on was Ghost Train. Murdoc and I had sat in the studio while 2D walked into the both with this dazed smile on his face. I'd known for a while already that those were caused by an overuse of pills due to migraines that refused to get better because of Murdoc.

And then I heard the most chilling sound I'd heard in a while.

At first I couldn't believe it; I couldn't understand how such a smooth yet haunting voice could be coming out of a person like 2D. I'd looked at Murdoc to see if he was just ask shocked but he'd just had this sick sinister smile of satisfaction on his lips. I looked back to the blue haired lanky young man. It was impossible, no one could sing like that with two front teeth missing. No one.

Then Paula showed up, claiming to be 2D's girlfriend and yea I believed it. Our singer was good looking guy, a bit too trusting and blank mentally but he wasn't too low down. Murdoc on the other hand; he couldn't even fathom a reason for anyone to like Stuart. I liked him and I defended him from the abuse when it got too bad but at times of course I'd poke fun at him.

I didn't like the look of her, she dampened my flame; she controlled my fire. I didn't like the way she would pretend to listen to 2D and every once and while look off as if trying to find someone. I knew who it was, I had known from the very first day she'd walked into Kong. And despite knowing she was a bitch and untrustworthy I hadn't fought when she was brought into the band.

The only thing that kept my fire from being completely surrounded by cold was the anger Murdoc seemed to show towards Stu's new girlfriend. It ignited something twisted in me and it thrilled every time Murdoc sneered at her or swore at her or called her some sort of insult I dare not repeat. It flared me up with happiness, if he hated her than it wasn't so bad having her around.

So you can imagine that I wouldn't think he'd do anything to ruin that shit. He acted like he hated her; you could see the hatred rolling off him in waves. Yet, he wanted and did that? He did _that_ with _her_ even thought I thought he _hated her._

The way I'd found out wasn't no big shindig ya dig? I just had to go to the bathroom and I'd heard these sounds from stall number three. At first, I just thought Murdoc was being his disgusting self and had forgotten that _other people_ used those washrooms. I was going to leave it and wait until he'd finished so I could yell at him until I'd heard a female voice. That was when I'd bashed the door in to find out what was going on in there.

I burned with a rage so intense all I did was stand there with my hands clenched at my sides. "Move!" I'd shouted at Paula. She'd squeezed past me with tears in her eyes but didn't leave the bathroom. I glared at Murdoc and for the first time I knew he was afraid of me. There was no pause, no thought behind the action; I'd just thrown my fist out and punched him in the nose. It made me smile to hear his bone crunch under my fist.

I'd turned my glare on the door and instead of looking at Paula. I left the bathroom and while I'd passed her I'd just said in a calm tone, "You better fucking leave." It had extinguished my flame to tell 2D what had happened and it wrenched at my heart to see how broken he'd looked for weeks after that. I didn't even have the energy to play my drums because the atmosphere in Kong was just so low it sucked the life from you.

A few months later, I was burning warm and everything was alright again. We were working on tracks and still looking for a guitarist to join us. It was one faithful day that, that exact thing happened for us.

Simple day, everyone just hanging around doing nothing of importance until the doorbell rang. No one made to get up. I didn't because I was watching a program on a rapper, 2D because he was zoned out to oblivion on the sofa and Murdoc because he's a lazy ass. Eventually the bell rung again.

"Fine, I'll go get it." I'd watched the bassist leave the room muttering rude curses under his breath as he left. I still didn't understand how 2D forgave him every time he beat him into near unconsciousness or speak to him in ways no one would even speak to animal. But what did I know about them? Nothing, nothing except that they had made my fire come back and that was all I needed really. Suddenly, "Tubby, get your arse in here. You've got a fucking package!"

Anger flared up for a single moment until it blanked out and I got up to go to the main room. I wasn't surprised to see our singer follow me, he didn't like being in room by himself what with the zombies and shit. (Those things are fucked up yo.) I headed for the door and looked at the large package that was sitting on the step. "It's not mine man." Just then the box practically exploded open and some small purple haired little girl pops out and starts jamming into the most amazing rift I had personally ever heard. And then she said just one word.

"Noodle!" Well it was more 'Noodoru' but we decided that Noodle sounded more appropriate than anything. While we'd all stood there dumbfounded she walked into the house chattering in Japansese and looking around the lobby.

"Send her back! We can't keep a little girl in here," Murdoc had stated instantly, pointing back at the box.

"There's no return address Muds. 'Ow can we sen' 'er back?" 2D had asked as he inspected the box.

Me, I had, had nothing to say. That little girl had just caused some sort of explosion in my core and I swore I was on fire. I picked up the small guitarist and glared at Murdoc rightfully. "No one is sending her anywhere. We needed a guitarist and here one is. I'll watch her and I'll make sure she grows up properly," I stated firmly, daring Murdoc to argue with me. He'd just shrugged and wondered out of the room with a short string of curses and a 'whatever'.

2D and I stared at each other for a second before we'd looked down at the (she'd fallen asleep so quickly) sleeping girl who was in my arms. "Where is she gonna sleep Russ?" I'd rolled my eyes and solved out issues I knew the others couldn't.

Three plus Noodle made four and I couldn't have been more surrounded by fire. We'd gotten signed under the fabulous Noodle named band Gorillaz. We were doing it, we really were doing it. I was looking forward to my future suddenly; I couldn't see anything blocking my path to the exit. It was all light, pure light the shone from a fire so blazing hot it hurt.

With my Noodle-Girl, Stu "2D' Pot and Murdoc "so called King of Gorillaz" Niccals and me, Russel "Beats Man" Hobbs; nothing could get in the way. We were going to the top, we were going to do it. NOTHING would stop us as long as we were Gorillaz.

I remember saying three plus Noodle made four right? Well, that was a very wrong calculation. You see, I completely forgot about Del but he wouldn't let that last. When we were filming our video for Clint Eastwood, I dozed off while I was hitting the drums. But even asleep I still played due to all my friends in my head. And guess who decided that he would hip hop his way through. DEL! He just popped on out and began to rap his way through the verses.

When I'd heard what happened I couldn't even believe that it had happened. But there it had been, on video and it swelled my fire and filled me with glee. Del and I had done it again; we'd rocked the world of music and we couldn't be stopped. It was such a success he showed up again for Rock the House.

Then we'd gone on hiatus and I was somewhat happy for the small break. The first CD had taken a lot out of me and every band needs a break right? Well, we did because we were starting to get at each other's throats. It was in fact me who had left first and brought my baby girl with me. I didn't want her there when Murdoc finally flipped his top and completely murdered 2D. And soon after that she left me to go to Japan to try and figure out who she was.

I went back to my home to visit my mom for a while and she could've been happier. It made me tingle that even thought I didn't have a business type job that she was proud of how well I'd been doing. After a month I left her with a smile and a small donation from my cut of the profits and went to exploring the rest of America.

Along the way though, I had Del ripped from me by Death himself. Apparently Del had over welcomed his stay with the living and owed death a little something. It tore me apart and left me empty, shivering… cold. Cold was the one thing I feared the most, I still fear cold above all else. It's such a torturous feeling, being cold inside. Like your empty but since the cold is there you know you're still feeling but you're frozen from the inside out. It was horrible.

Somehow I found my way into Ike Turner's basement and fell apart there. I started seeing demons flying out of my speakers and I was hearing voices everywhere. I was literally, a shell of my old self; completely torn apart from the absence of my best friend in my head. Without him there seemed to be no reason to even bother playing the drums again. I let myself fall into ruins and become a hermit no one would ever want to talk to.

Then, something in me convinced me to go back. I was the last one there, the last one back to my family nearly two years later. At least it felt like two years later to me, I was a wreck and I knew they could see it. Took a long time to get me back into good enough shape to play my drums with the same enthusiasm I used to have. It just seemed like there was no point with Del missing and I just couldn't get the rhythm back.

That was until I realized that the Grim Reaper had taken _only_ Del. The rest of them were still there, subdued and quiet but they were there; lending me their beats and rhythms. It slowly became apparent to me that I still had that light showing me my path. I still had nothing blocking me.

It was fulfilling, being with my band again; being part of my band again. The interviews and shows and playing and recording and just being there. Even Kong seemed a whole lot brighter since my leaving. It all just, came together like a jigsaw puzzle that had been longing to be pieced together. It all fit; I fit.

From halfway through 2004 to halfway through 2006 my life was nothing but heat. A good heat that burned good and burned long and strong and filled and expanded and contained and released and just was _there._ It was so very there just sitting in me and waiting for a moment when it could explode into space.

And yet, I knew that it wouldn't last long. That day, one single day had, had the power to completely obliterate anything I had. It wasn't even a day that caused me pain; that put me through trauma. It had happened to someone else, someone so close to me that I hadn't realized it until it was too late.

It was too late to save my baby girl. She was gone.

"Till I met this pretty lil miss who got shot right out the sky."

That one instant had cut holes so large into my heart I could feel myself bleeding out. It dulled the flames, made me feel a lot less wrapped in warmth. I had coughed from the pain of it, half expecting blood to wipe off onto the back of hand. I'd half expected my heart to land into the palm of my hand.

It wasn't the same after that, everything went black and dull. I couldn't stand it anymore; it was too dark, too cold. There was no warmth, no heat… no fire. We were getting angrier and angrier at each other. Murdoc was abusing 2D more, I was threatening more. I wouldn't take it, I would never forgive myself if I hurt any of them. So… I left.

Now, now I'm going to launch myself into the sea. The demons have gotten bad, they're telling me things. It's too cold all alone and I have to go. He's done enough; he's replaced me with soulless fakes. I can't go on like this.

To you I leave this, until I can write once again.

I'll just plunge into the sea.

If it's… alright with you.

* * *

_Well, I hope you enjoyed all 7,660 words of this. It took me a long time because I don't know exactly how Russel thinks. I kinda just took his additude from interveiws and stuff and mixed it up with how I'd feel during those moments._

_Lemme know what you think._

_Up next!_

_Android Noodle! _

_It'll be exciting!_

_Anah~_


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